


Third Time's a Charm

by Moonfishh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuaka - Freeform, Festivals, Haikyuu - Freeform, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M, Tokyo - Freeform, Volleyball, haikyuu aging au, haikyuuau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfishh/pseuds/Moonfishh
Summary: Bokuto Koutarou has had three loves and three heartbreaks throughout his life. Akaashi Keiji is what might save him.Where festival lights shine bright, waves crash into the shore of Kamakura and Bokuto experiences what might be the best thing to ever happen to him.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	Third Time's a Charm

Bokuto Koutarou had fallen in love three times. Only three. He could shout from the very rooftops that he loved Strawberry Daifuku, the Kusajishi festival and volleyball.

But he wasn't in love with those things. 

Because that was reserved for people. People who deserved his love. And oh boy he had a lot of love to give. Assuredly he was always an affectionate child, holding onto one too many legs, screaming for attention on more than one occasion and of course his uncontained passion for food. But not as much as the next door neighbour's daughter, Yukie. 

Koutarou lived in a loving and forgiving home with an attentive mother, although weary of her overactive child, and a father who although wasn’t around as often as he liked, was kind and supportive.

He grew up in a place called Kamakura, south from Tokyo and now considered a small town. Though he had never really thought so. Being a beach town he had never seen the lack of people flowing in and out around the main areas, although maybe around winter. Perhaps they had been tourists.

But in all honesty he lived a simple life. His house was a typical one, sliding doors and too large brick stairs leading up to it. Geen shrubbery edged around the borders of his house and expanded itself over the little space of the back yard that they did have.

As any growing adolescent might wonder, he was particularly interested in big cities where surely there’d be bigger things. Riding the waves of the surf, being dunked by said waves and earning an eardrum full of sand was only interesting for so long.

But for now he was content with his small volleyball team, his twenty minute walk to school and his two large dogs, Sportacus and Pretzel. 

It was at school that he had his first love at eight years old. Although he wasn't sure of it later on, he was pretty damn sure at the time that he had loved his primary school teacher who had given him one too many smiley stickers on work that wasn't nearly as good as the other students. 

One belted out confession and a very awkward smile later, his teacher had declined his offer to get married under the school's red maple tree at dawn. 

It had caused a whirlwind of tears and refusing to learn for a whole month before conceding and switching him to another class. Looking back at it now, it was a little more than embarrassing, and no he did not count it in his three.

Because three loves sounded way better than four. 

His real first love was when he was sixteen. Sixteen and stupid. He was on a one way volleyball streak and his team happened to be not that bad. A left hand wing spiker was closely accumulated as a friend, and then...more. It wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t.

Kaito was cute, strong and the only one who could keep up with his energetic posterior at times. There were exchanged high fives after a good spike, full body hugs after losing a match and then their relationship expanded beyond volleyball.

Kaito became one of his best friends. He stayed over many nights, playing video games till they were both passed out on the singular futon Bokuto had laid down on the floor for Kaito to sleep on, now shared between two.

They sat at lunch together and Bokuto introduced him to the wonders of strawberry daifuku. In May, Bokuto took him to his favorite festival and their eyes glazed over at the execution of archery and good desserts. Bokuto shared many of his loves with Kaito, along with the love that he reserved for special people, and not inanimate objects, or festivals or meaningless food.

He shared his heart, and he had thought it might be the same the other way round.

“I love you” he had said.

They both sat in his small room, tv blaring as they finished a level of the latest video game Kaito had forced him to go halves on.

“You love a lot of things, Koutarou” Kaito had laughed.

“Nuh-uh!” Bokuto whined, defensively. 

“Yea-huh! Just yesterday you said you loved the way a leaf fell from a tree!”.

“It was so beautiful and majestic, though” Bokuto pouted.

“Until you breathed it in and wheezed like a horse” Kaito sang, and Bokuto pushed him, playfully.

“I really do love you! We’ve been friends for so long” Bokuto set down his controller in favor of crossing his arms across his chest.

“Show me then. Maybe buy me some melon pan or-” his words were cut off.

Lips pressed against Kaitos. Bokutos lips to be precise.

And he had felt more than he had in awhile. He had felt happy, he had felt expressive, he had felt...pure regret. 

After pulling away from Kaito, the television screen illuminating his face in the dark room, his stomach had dropped a bar or two. There was the eerily static ringing in his ears, flipping his insides outwards and making him feel woozy. Because Kaito was looking at him with a mortified expression.

“Y-you mean you love me like that?” Kaito had asked weakly.

And at that comment, Bokuto thought maybe there was a slight chance, hope dancing across his skin and in his chest. It was ripped away when Kaito abruptly stood from the floor.

His eyes looked down at Bokuto, cold and stony, frown picturesque in the way oil paintings displayed a noble surrounded by seemingly black nothingness. And Bokuto felt so small under his gaze.

“I do” Bokuto licked over his bottom lip nervously. His wispy bangs of black hair lay across his forehead, distending slightly into his view. His eyes hung open and wide, exposed gold to the dark of the room.

“Youre gay, Koutarou!” Kaito seethed through his teeth. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white, as if he were refraining himself from actions Bokuto didn't want to know about.

“I thought you-” Bokuto started.

“You thought wrong” Kaito grunted, and he stormed out the door.

It was the next morning when he found that before Kaito had left, destroying Bokuto's heart, that he had also told his parents.

His mother, once loving and attentive, left him to rot in his room without even a spare glance. The times he spent with his father were ones of silence that felt worse than being berated the way he had the morning he found out they knew. There had been too much shouting, too much repression, just... too much. And Koutarou was now the rejected subjugation of the Bokuto household.

Much to his parents dismay, if they were to find out, Bokuto continued dating. Of course he had to be sneaky about it. But it was hard. Being one of his descent and in a country that had once criminzalized homosexuality, it was not easy to find someone. 

He dated two more boys before turning eighteen. One for each year. 

His first boyfriend, Touma, had been a whimsical blonde, studded ears, broad shoulders and a rich laugh. He was fun, he was Bokuto's first. They both enjoyed deserts and strawberry Daifuku after a day's worth of surfing. Three weeks later he was sent away by his parents after finding out their son was in a same sex relationship. Bokuto never knew he had left, and once he did, he never heard from Touma again.

His second boyfriend was Ichika. Ichika was tall, narrow shoulders and had too square glasses; if that was possible. Ichika, although not leaving after a few weeks, was not the person he wanted to be with. He didn’t tolerate sweets, and denied Bokuto's Strawberry Daifuku. He told Bokuto he wasn't much of a festival person, and Bokuto found himself staying home and watching the fireworks from his window as Ichika read a book and pretended Bokuto wasn't there. They broke up after two months.

Eighteen years old and now a much more mature person, Bokuto slicked up and dyed his hair, and said goodbye to his parents. Or the people he had once considered parents, now just the ones who had formerly kept a roof over his head and fed him.

He was well on his way to Tokyo where he joined a college volleyball team. He was ecstatic. A big city with bigger things. 

It was in his first year of college that he had his second love. Kuroo Tetsurou grew up in the back streets of Tokyo and he loved volleyball. Strawberries, although not his favorite, were considered a delicious treat. Bokuto let his heart open once more and showed his love. It was returned. They both played volleyball, they both had ridiculous humor, and Kuroo was the best kisser in his experience so far. They both decided that Bokuto would take Kuroo back to his hometown to watch the Kusajishi festival.

The relationship did not last long enough for that to happen. Kuroo was in love with another.

“I’m sorry, Koutarou” Kuroo had wept into his jumper.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s fine! We can't choose who we love and even then…” he began to choke on his own words. “Even then, we’ll still be best friends, right?”.

“We’re best friends?” Kuroo had looked at him in surprise, unretained glee swarming in the pools of his hazel eyes.

“I don't think i’d let you live if you were just a stranger who knew I blew milk out my nose over the front row at a volleyball match” Bokuto chuckled.

“Right, only best friends know that kind of stuff” Kuroo had dried away his tears, and now laughed heartily.

“I love you” Bokuto had hummed. And even though Kuroo could not return the sentiment, he had wept even more.

...

They did not stay best friends, although they tried. Kuroo ended up moving across the country in the follow of his partner, and finding the time to talk to each other was becoming harder than it should be. Suddenly it became unnecessary to try keep up such things. And so his second love flamed and then burnt out, dissipating till nothing.

In his early twenties, Bokuto was scouted for the national team. Bokuto Koutarou who had grown up in a small beach town, had his heart broken twice, and was now looking to place that love directly into volleyball.

But somehow, after he stopped looking, it came to him; and it came to him in the form of one Akaashi Keiji.

Keiji was tall, curly black ink hair, witty and sharp. His smiles were small, but they were kept only for Bokuto. Especially on the day they had met, when Bokuto had accidently pushed over the whole entire magazine shelf at the library Keiji worked at.

With a helping hand and apologetic rambling, ten minutes later the shelf was restored and numbers were exchanged.

Akaashi Keiji was a mystery as well as an open book (if one person could somehow be two). Although Bokuto did not have the instinct and observation skills of the typical person, he was well aware that Akaashi was guarded. He had been hurt, and Bokuto had been hurt, and it all seemed to fit together.

Bokuto had never thought once in his life that he would end up with someone who preferred to read a book alone over many other things. He didn't believe someone with such a low calming voice and disinterested facial expressions would become his boyfriend. But he was funny, he was interesting, he was kind. More importantly, Akaashi grounded him and Bokuto loved him for that.

He especially loved Akaashis sweet tooth for candies and his extensive knowledge on volleyball after playing it himself in his early days of highschool.

He loved him, and yet after months, he did not say it. 

Akaashi would cheer him on at games, the two would meet after in a flurry of excited shouting and kisses. Bokuto would drop by the library on multiple occasions to pull him out to lunch, or when too busy, just left post it notes on every surface available. 

“Koutarou, please refrain from leaving notes anymore. If I have to explain one more time to another co worker why there are poorly drawn owls stuck to the computer monitor, I might burst a blood vessel”.

“Maybe instead of refusing to take your break, you should accept my spontaneous invitations next time” Bokuto had sang.

“They are anything but spontaneous. You come around every Monday and Wednesday at 2pm”.

“Akaashiiiiii!” Bokuto protested. But there was a smile on Akaashis face, hidden underneath a knitted scarf. The two of them walked through the street of snow, blowing warm air of laughter.

“Next time, Koutarou” he chuckled.

Kuroo ended up moving back to Tokyo briefly, and with him he brought a small blonde boy, large cat eyes with slim shoulders and a mindset for his handheld game and nothing else. Apart from maybe Kuroo.

It was nice to meet again, and he had brought a hesitant Akaashi along. He was proud of his boyfriend, perhaps too proud, too eager.

Akaashi did not like that very much.

Kuroo was Bokutos ex, the two had chemistry. Akaashis hurt, which he had never revealed, was brought back at full scale and that night they fought.

The fight brought on another fight, and another, and another, until Bokuto wasn't even sure what they were fighting about anymore.

They broke up after a year of dating. A very long year in which Bokuto had never once told Akaashi he had loved him, and that may have been his biggest regret.

Bokuto suffered from his heartbreak, it being the worst of the three yet. And because of his, he thought he may never love again.

He dated. He dated a lot. But it had never been the same. No matter how close he had tried to get, there was always something off.

Their eyes were not blue enough, their hair not the pitch black curls of a night sky. They smiled too easily at Bokuto's ridiculous jokes. Smiles that he would usually have to work hard to get out of Akaashi. Bokuto loved challenges and Akaashi had loved challenging him. 

He threw himself into his career.

Two years passed and Bokutos love failed to succeed once again. He was brought down with a rotator cuff injury on his shoulder, and there his volleyball career ended. He cried more than thought possible, deep down in the depths of his too large apartment in the heart of a too big city.

He could no longer pour himself into something, let himself feel freely about something so great. Volleyball was gone, the strawberry daifuku tasted like mush in his mouth and therefore he set off on a trip to his own hometown, looking to rekindle something he once had.

Over the years he had not been a neglectful son. He called his parents respectively on their birthdays and the same was given in return. Although the scars never healed, they were patched up to a degree where Bokuto was lying in his childhood room after an offer from his mother he couldn't deny.

It didn't feel right. 

That night as he walked through the streets of Kamakura, the Kusajishi festival was in full flight. The music was loud, the skies were dark, the lights were bright.

And Bokuto felt more empty than he had ever been before among crowds of happy people.

He had three heartbreaks and the three things that he had always turned to, no longer gave him comfort and reassurance that he could love on his own anymore. He was broken beyond repair, with only the set of gunmetal blue eyes burned into the back of his head.

Akaashi Keiji.

Akaashi Keiji was there beside him, looking out into the streets of dancing people and glorious bright costumes. Eyes flickered with beams of bursting light and those same eyes never left the parade as he spoke. His voice was calm, low, soft. It was everything to Bokuto's ears.

“Koutarou” he said, firm.

“Keiji” he had whispered under his breath.

And then he turned to look at him. Soft curls and blazing blue eyes. A small smile and sharp mature lines to his now more sophisticated face.

“How did you know I was going to be here. Are you like an angel?” Bokuto asked, exasperated.

The sweet sound of laughter from Akaashis mouth mixed into the melodious music of the festival behind him, and it was beautiful.

“I am not. However, I do remember many years ago you telling me about a festival from your hometown. When travelling back to Tokyo, I thought it might be nice to stop by and see what all the fuss was about” he chuckled, eyes drawing back to the street of luminous yellows and reds on the performers. 

“That sure was kind of you. Like really kind, you've always been kind” Bokuto rambled, unable to contain his eagerness. He sounded like a drunkard, high on the revitalizing memories flooding back into his brain. 

“If I remember correctly, it was always you who was the generous one in the relationship?” Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, grin still held on his face, as if he knew something Bokuto didn't.

“Me? Generous…” Bokuto repeated. “That can’t be right. I drove you away”.

Suddenly Akaashis grin fell of his face in turn for furrowed eyebrows and a discontent frown. 

“Koutarou…”.

“It’s true” Bokuto shrugged his shoulders, eyes wandering over a pack of small children. They ran into the crowd of performers, waving their sticks around, cheerfully. Instead of being disregarded, the performers danced with them, picked them up and laughter arose from all around.

“It was not true. I-” Akaashi started, but was interrupted.

“Why didn't you ever love me back, Keiji” he sniffed.

And by gods he was pathetic. He was standing on the sidewalk, dragging his coat sleeves across his eyes to wipe away the tears that would soon become relentless. And he could do nothing to stop it. He had lost his footing a long time ago, he had lost the one person that could ground him.

Akaashis hand reached out, long fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling his fists away from his eyes.

Bokuto paused as his eyes caught Akaashis face. It looked rumpled, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. His eyes were downcast, thick eyelashes fluttering.

“I did love you” he mumbled, the words soft and quiet.

Everything in Bokutos body froze. Apart from his heart. His heart kept beating. 

“I loved you and I loved you and I couldn't say it and neither could you because it was not the best time for both of us” Akaashis eyes flickered upwards towards his face. There were tears gathered in the corners.

“Because we had both been hurt, and neither one of us were helping each other fix it, no matter how much we told each other we were” he inhaled sharply and then exhaled loudly.

Bokutos bottom lip trembled and his hand was still clutched in Akaashis own hand down by their sides, and it felt so weird to be happy at a time like this. But Akaashi had loved him back.

“I missed you” he managed to get out before he was choking on a sob.

And Akaashi smiled between his laughter and tears. Their fingers entwined. Because even after years, it felt so natural, picked up right where it had been left. Gathered from the ground and brushed off. 

“I’m sorry I never helped you. I’m sorry I didn't pay enough attention” Bokuto gripped, tears streaming down his face.

Akaashi merely shook his head in disagreement.  
“I wasn't letting you help me. I’m the one who should be sorry”.

“Aghhh, Keiji” Bokuto groaned happily through his constant wiping of tears. He was well aware his nose was becoming snotty, his tears more determined than ever. 

“I love you” Akaashi breathed the words, like he was scared to say them. His eyes flickered with vulnerability, while Bokuto's heart soared.

He reached for Akaashis other hand, clutching it tight as they faced each other, mere centimeters apart. In the background the music jingled and the drums beat. The colours glowed bright and delicious scents wafted in the air of the Kusajishi festival.

“I love you, too” Bokuto whispered, and then he was leaning inwards, tilting his head just right, and they were kissing. Akaashi kissed back. He more than kissed back, unlinking their hands to throw his arms around Bokutos neck, drawing him closer.

Bokuto could feel the wetness against his cheek, and he wasn't completely sure whose tears it happened to be, but he didnt care. Because his heart felt a little more restored. Not completely. But it was on its way.

He kissed Akaashi harder, trying to demonstrate his passion, his love, his hurt, his reinstatement of what could become. They broke apart with laughs and more tears.

Akaashi Keiji tasted like Strawberry Daifuku. Akaashi Keiji was his third and final love.

**Author's Note:**

> I technically wrote this as a series of one shots for a book on wattpad, but I ended up uploading it here too causeeeee uwu you never know, I suppose. 
> 
> It wasn't my best work and literally just written in a few hours at 1am, but I still like it, and I hope you all did too~


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